Fallen From Grace
by finally-defeated
Summary: The aftermath of his father's wicked deeds manifests upon him, never ceasing to haunt him; inevitably dragging with him a certain mudblood into the unescapable undertow. A story about a girl who wanted to save the world, and the boy who wanted to rule it.
1. Default Chapter

**Fallen From Grace **

**Chapter One: _Never— nevermore. _**

_Once upon an autumn dreary, whilst he __wandered weak and weary_

_Across many a vast and curious land of forgotten yore. _

_Whilst he stuttered, shivering, shaking, suddenly there came a waking,_

_As of something gently quaking, quaking in his very core _

_"T is my muddled mind, "he muttered, "twisting at my inner core—only this and nothing more." _

"I'll be in soon, Blaise, just go ahead."

The dark-haired Slytherin boy nodded his head curtly in acknowledgment before swiftly snatching up his _Nimbus 2002_ and jogging back up to the large crowd of Slytherins ahead.

Carefully smoothing out his Quidditch robes, the blond-haired Slytherin deftly leapt onto his broomstick and kicked-off into the ominous autumn night sky. The chilling air seeped through his sweat-dampened robes, pricking faintly at his pale skin. Hiding cunningly behind the mass of darkened, grey-black clouds, the blood moon shone sinisterly with a dark crimson colour, casting a glowing reddish shadow across the grounds.

His sleek broomstick cut through the bitter breaths of wind that whipped his pallid cheeks, painting them with a faint rosy hue. Pausing in mid-air, the Slytherin listened hard into the night; hearing only silence in return, save for the rapid thudding of his heartbeat. Hovering unsteadily, he peered out a full 360; but as he'd suspected, his eyes met only the looming darkness.

"Don't be an idiot," he muttered quietly to himself. "No one's out here but you."

Shirking off the irritating chills, the boy angled his broom downwards and sliced through the crimson blackness, determined to leave the feeling far, far behind. Staring hard below him, he could glimpse the rich greenness of the field. 150 metres from the ground; he was nearing. 100 metres; he gripped tightly onto his handle,preparing to pull out. 40 metres; dexterously he began to pull up his handle, but the dampness of his hands causedhim to slip, and before he could get the chance to regain control, a hurling black object collided with the back of his head and he fell.

His limp body spiralled down with incredible velocity, his broom, alongside him. He could feel the wind rushing down past him; his vision became blurred from the impact of the object with his head, and all he could see was a whirl of black and rougeand the forthcoming doom of his body clashing with the solid, green pitch.

_SLAM _

He felt every bit of air burst out from his lungs as his body crumpled helplessly beneath him. Feeling amazed he was still conscious and alive,the boy attempted to turn his body over, but soon discovered he possessed neither the strength nor the determination to do so at the time. A searing pain gripped his right arm;without even looking, he knew that he'd fractured a limb, and now a splinter was jabbing out through his skin making any movement whatsoever an arduous and excruciating task. Attempting to take in a deep breath, he found several ribs to have been broken, pressing agonizingly against his lungs, severely restricting his airway. He could feel his warm, sticky blood, trailing down the bare nape of his neck, leaving behind it a streak of red, shortly meshing together with the dark, emerald colour of his robes, forever staining it. Within his head was a crisp, painful throbbing that echoed continuously. Paying no heed to the pain, he slowly turned his head, not caring that the dirt streaked his face as he did so. He blinked several times, trying to rid his vision of the blinding flashes that obstructed his view. When the stars at long last subsided, he could clearly make out a familiar pair of crisp, black leather boots that seemed strangely unsoiled despite the fact that they were standing in a muddy Quidditch field. His eyes travelled up from the man's feet to his equally immaculate velvet-lined cloak, and finallyto his hardened, bloodless visage that seemed a mixture of pure white along with a trace of indigo which contrasted violently against the darkness of the surrounding night. The man's sleek, charcoal-coloured hair blended into the surroundings,giving the illusion that the man's face was floating upon its own volition in mid-air.

"Young Mister Malfoy, we meet again. What a striking resemblance you have to the senior," hesaid in a sharp, clear voice with a bare hint of an accent Draco couldn't put his finger on, enunciating the 's' with profound clarity.

He could now feel blood trickling down from the side of his lips, but he made no attempt to stem the flow. His vision was blackening once again, and he could feel himself losing consciousness. "Dr-Dracula?" Draco managed to choke out.

The intimidating man leered at the young boy and raised three bony fingers. "Strike one" he said, slowly bringing down his ring finger. "Do you really believe that Count Dracula, lord of the Vampires,has the _time_ to go out and carry out such menial deeds? Try again."

The Slytherin boy glared up at the man with as much ferocity as he could muster, but soon gave up as the task required a fair amount of strength, and at the moment he possessed a bare amount. This man was toying with him while he was an inch away from his death bed; what the bloody hell was he playing at?

"Satan." He tried again, choking on the blood that now streamed out in short spurts from his colourless lips.

The sneering man let out a hollow laugh that reminded Draco vividly of the Dark Lord's own. "Strike two." He put down another finger. What would happen upon strike three? Draco did not wish to find out; but surely he wouldn't leave him to die, would he?"I believe the prince of Darkness is vacationing in Bulgaria at the present. Last chance, Mr. Malfoy. For such a bright young man, you are rather thick, no?"

"Son of a Bitch," Draco spat out, his voice cracked and croaky.

"That is strike three. Tut, tut, now we're just being plain nasty now, aren't we, dear boy?" Purposely disregarding Draco's fractured ribs, the man tossed the blond-haired boy over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing more than a feather rather than as much as a 16 year old adolescent boy and lugged his wounded torsoto the edge of the forest. In the near distance, Draco spotted the faint glowing of a window belonging to the half-blood gamekeeper. For a moment, he considered crying aloud for help, but thenhe realized that the stranger would most likely have killed him before the giant oaf got anywhere near Draco.

After his body had been lobbed heedlessly onto the forest floor, the man stood above Draco once more. The crimson moonlight peeked though the various volumes of forestry and shone upon the man's figure, creating a supernatural aura around him.

"I, Draco Malfoy, am Count Mordechai," he said almost inaudibly as he knelt down to shorten the distance between the two.

Suddenly, imaginary bells went off within Draco's mind, drowning out the painful throbbing. Mordechai was one of Dracula's henchmen. Silently, he damned his father for defrauding the King of Vampires that previous summer. He had vowed to make Lucius pay, but never in his wildest dreams had Draco thought that they would come after himthe one thing Lucius prized above all; no, not his son, but the purity of his bloodline.

Terror flooded though his veins; there was no way he could defend himself against the vampire without his wand, even if he was at full strength. "No—no, please don't, " he rasped, attempting to edge backwards. But it was useless. His fate was sealed.

"Give my _regards_ to your father, Mister Malfoy." Those were the final words Draco heard before he felt two sharp fangs pierce the side of his neck, embedding themselves within his tender flesh andsending a searing pain, like scorching metal upon bare skin, throughout his body.

vVv

"G'night, 'Ermione! Tell 'Arry 'n Ron t'er drop by sum time!"

Harry and Ron were both still up at the castle occupied with a stupid game of Wizarding chess. After losing to both Ron and Harry five times consecutively, Hermione had decided to go down to visit her old friend that night. Smiling politely, the bushy-haired Gryffindor waved at her friend and called back, "I will! Good night, Hagrid!"

Hermione turned her back when she saw his door click shut and began to edge her way to the Forbidden forest, eager to rid her pockets of the numerous rock cakes she had accumulated while having a cup of tea with Hagrid

Had she known what a twist this very decision would have upon her life, Hermione Granger would have never gone out that particular night or even perhaps for the rest of her life.

She hummed softly to herself as she began flinging the cakes haphazardly into the darkened woods, hoping them to be a late dinner for some poor creature. It was then, at that very moment thatshe spotted a dark figure, hovering over a second. It appeared to her as if the larger creature was eating the helpless little being alive. Forgetting that she was all alone and rather defenceless, Hermione plunged her hand into her robes to retrieve a particularly large rock cake and flung itfull force ahead, hitting the creature square in the head. The animal hissed venomously and abandoned its prey, lunging full speed at the reckless Gryffindor girl. Shrieking loudly, Hermione stumbled backwards, whipped around, and began to run in the opposite direction. Having never taken physical education, Hermione had never had to run in all her life; and especially not at her current speed. To her dismay, the creature caught up to her in less than a minute and pounced on her, bringing her tumbling to the ground. A second ear-splitting scream erupted from her voice box when she caught sight of the creature's bloodied face.

"Such a loud little thing," he said smoothly "But oh, so full of life," he added as he gave her a sniff.

Hermione cringed at his actions and tried to throw him off, but found that he was at least ten times stronger and heavier than herself. "Get away from me!" she cried, wriggling beneath him. Her heart pounded wildly as she tried to regain her steady breathing.

"I don't think so, my little witch. One never does turn down a free meal, especially when it comes wandering about so willingly."

_Witch_**…**

His words sparked a glaring memory within her mind. She was a witch! As indiscreetly as possible, the Gryffindor girl snuck her hand into her robes, careful not to draw any attention from him, and gripped her wand tightly.

"Hermione Granger," she said quietly, but enunciating each letter, "-is nobody's meal. _EXPELLIARMUS!_"

The hulking vampire was blown from atop her feminine frame and hurled through the air until it hit a blockade.

Which just happened to be a tree.

_SMASH_

His body crashed forcefully into the tree trunk, sending a streak of cobalt-coloured liquid trickling down the side of his head. Hastily, Hermione clambered back up upon her feet, positioning herself in the standard defensive stance. "Don't-make-any-sudden-moves." Her tone was as lethal as her wand work.

A soft groan came from the tangle of limbs that lay at the base of the tree. "I surrender, " he murmured,"Just—just don't hurt me."

She eyed him suspiciously and edged closer, her wand still directed straight at him. "I'm 16,not 6, you evil git. Do you really think I'm going to fall for that?"

Count Mordechai sighed dramatically." I suppose not." And before Hermione could react, he leapt up from the ground and morphed into a bat, flitting off into the crimson darkness that swallowed the creature whole.

She stood still for a while longer, her wand poised for action just in case the vampire decided to come back. When finally she heard nothing more, Hermione remembered the fallen victim and hurried over to its side.

It was far too dark to make out his features, but she could tell it was human. Perhaps even a wizard. Crouching down, she peered closely at the injured boy, but when she failed to make out any distinct features, she quickly whispered, "_Lumos." _

Her wand clattered soundlessly against the forest floor.

"Malfoy!"

vVv

He lay still, unmoving and unresponsive,having passed out from the attack, she assumed. She stared down at his immobile form, her amber orbs widewith fright. He may have been the bane of her very existence, but never would she wish upon him a fate such as death. His lips were a frightful icy blue and his skin had turned several shades paler than its normal sickening white. His flawless platinum hair was now streaked with earth and hisown blood. Hesitating, Hermione placed a hand upon his cheek and found him to be colder than the night air itself. Quickly, she unclasped her cloak and draped it across his seemingly frail body.

"Oh Merlin, Malfoy! Wakeup! Wakeup, you prat!" she hissed urgently as she gently shook him.

After a good minute had passed without any response whatsoever, Hermione whipped out her wand and pointed it to his chest.

"_Enervate__" _

To her utter relief, there came a loud groaning sound. Ever so slowly, his eyes began to slowly flicker open. Hermione gasped aloud when she found his eyes not to be their normal grey, but instead, tinted with a dark amethyst.

"Can't-breathe—Gran—er" he coughed and sputtered a dark liquid, assumingly blood. Her eyes widened even farther when she brought her wand light near it. She discovered his blood not to be red, but rather, a dark plum. Dragging her wand light across his bodyshe found splotches of crimson blood; fresh and drying. Her mind spun in confusion. What was going on! A second groan of pain from her nemesis broke her trance. Hermione had only taken the St. Mungo's training course recently that summer and she had yet to try out her newly acquired skills on a real live person—or in her case, a half-living, half-person….

Taking a quick breath, she began reeling off her mile-long length of excuses not to heal him. "I've—I've only tried this once before and I'm merely a trainee; well, not even, but-but I have only first aid training and I'm not an expert on this—and –and I only know the basics and it was only a four week course during the summer and there was this really, really, large, pimply, sweaty, ghastly girl that kept getting paired up with me and she always ended up squashing the life out of our living dummy and I never really got a chance to heal it properly and maybe we should go to Madame Pomfrey because I'm pretty sure she's had more than four weeks of training and—"

"SHU-t—up—Hea—heal me!" Draco demanded hoarsely. Her incessant rambling was more likely to send him into a coma than another blow to the head.

She tried again, "But Madame Pomfrey can heal you much better and—"

"No! Sh-shame—me—no—you—you heal" he rasped, in an almost desperate tone now. Slowly, he began to slip back into unconsciousness. If Hermione didn't do something soon, he would surely die.

The Gryffindor blinked stupidly. He was worried about _shame_ at a time like this! Timidly, Hermione raised her wand and began to mutter simple healing charms. Within his chest, Draco could feel his ribs twisting back into their original places. Instantly, he felt his breathing ease,but his head still throbbed with pains and his vision blurred horribly before him,slurring the scene before him into a canvas splattered with brown, black,and red.

Hermione squealed loudly as his eyes began to close and his head slumped lifelessly to the side. "Malfoy! No! You prat! I healed you!" Sheslapped him lightly on the cheek. "Stop! Stop-stop dying!"

Draco coughed, sending a mouthful of grape-juice blood spewing down the side of his face. Hermione cringed at the sight. She wasn't sure what grossed her out more:the fact that it was blood, or that it was _purple_ blood. "Tha-thas—right, Granger. Tell—tell me to—stop dying-tha—always works."

"Oh, you ingrate! I have half a mind to walk away and leave you to die for right this second!" she fumed, crossing her arms against her chest.

Blinking several times, Draco shrugged his left shoulder gently and brought his cheek down to wipe off the trickling blood that made his cheek itch irritatingly. "But you won't. It's—th—the Gryffindor in you. Anything to heal my head? It's hurting like a prick."

Hermione huffed, but proceeded to remove her robe and fold it into a neat little square, slipping it gently beneath Draco's wounded skull. She cringed once more and drew away as her hand became smeared with his strange blood. "I don't know how to heal your head. You'll just have to go to Madame Pomfrey."

Draco gritted his teeth, but very soon regretted it as it sent a sharp pain through his head. "I told you—I'm not going to her. No one can find out about this, Granger. No one."

"But why not!" she protested. "Look at yourself! Someone's going to see you sooner or later—it's obvious you didn't just trip."

"Granger—Listen to me. No one can know about this." His voice was hoarse and in his current state he did not look the least bit threatening. "Promise me you won't tell anyone."

Her mouth dropped open, "I can't do that!" she sputtered. "You're delusional, Malfoy. I'm—I'm going to get Dumbledore."

"NO!" Draco clasped his strong hand around her wrist and held her in a vice-like grip. "Granger, my brain is fine. Just—Please, you have to understand. I can't let anyone know about this. Not—not now. Please, Granger. I'm begging you."

His tone was desperate and the haunting look within his eyes frightened her terribly. "L-Let go. You're hurting me," Hermione whimpered, trying to pulling away.

"Promise me!" he demanded fiercely, tightening his hold on her. "Just promise me and I'll let you go."

Her voice quivered and her body trembled "I promise," she whispered. He looked deep into her eyes as if to seek the lies behind her words. But apparently he found none as he soon let go of her. Hermione quickly scampered backwards, stumbling over her own feet. She slowly got up, keeping a steady eye upon him. He laystill, his chest rising and falling at a steady pace. Looking down at him, Hermione bit her lip nervously. She couldn't just leave him there, could she? He was no longer in any terrible pain—at least none that was apparent. "Barnabas," she blurted out suddenly.

His head shifted slightly. "What?"

"Barnabas the Barmy. The tapestry—walk along there three times , concentrate on a safe place to hide."She turned to leave.

"Wait—what the bloody hell are you talking about?" he asked, utterly bewildered.

She gave him a strange, yet firm look. "Just trust me."

Draco lay on the ground and watched her figure until it became wholly consumed by the darkness of the night. "Strange, strange, strange," he muttered. Eventually, the Slytherin got back onto his feet and decided to trust his arch enemy's female sidekick.

vVv

"Ow!"

"Sorry." Lavender kneeled down and began to untangle Hermione's mane from the wooden brush. "You really need to start using conditioner, Hermione. It'll make your hair much easier to handle."

Hermione sighed and blew a strand of hair from her face. "Oh, so it takes longer to comb my hair. So what? I refuse to waste my money on things that aren't a necessity," she said stubbornly. "And besides,"she added, "I haven't got any extra money .I spent the last bit on _118191514 Hexes, Curses and Enchantments_. It was an honest to Merlin bargain!"

Setting down her issue of _Witch Weekly_: _Teen Edition_, Parvati rummaged through her trunk and fished out a bottle and hurled it across the room.

"Ow!" Hermione cried out in pain yet again as the bottle collided with the side of her head.

"Sorry," Parvati muttered, enthralling herself once more in the magazine.

"Sleekezee 2 in 1 Shampoo and Conditioner," sheread aloud.

"Lather, leave, rinse—do not repeat," Parvati instructed from atop her four poster bed.

Hermione frowned and set it down. "Just leave it, Lavender. I'll get it out. I'm going to the washroom."

Reluctantly, Lavender released her hair and scampered over to join her other friend.

An uncomfortable knot had built up within her stomach, one that—if possible—was even bigger than the one in her hair. Wincing at the sight, Hermione leaned over the sink and brought her hair up close to the mirror. Was it really that bad? Why the hell did anyone care how her hair was anyway? She hated people trying to change her. Why couldn't everyone just leave her be? She was quite content with the way she looked at the present. Taking out her wand, Hermione slowly began to untangle her hair. After fifteen gruelling minutes had passed by, the brush was at long last free. She was even a bit surprised when it did not run off the moment it was untangled.

Looking down at her fingers, the Gryffindor noticed a faint reddish brown substance caked beneath her fingernails despite the shower she had just taken. She recoiled at the flashes of memory that itbrought back. She had left him there—what if he couldn't get back? What if he was still terribly hurt? His death would be on her conscience for eternity. She had to go find out how he was, and maybe even get him to sign a contract assuring that she had not killed him or been a factor in his death if he happened to die sometime in the near future.

vVv

And...? Comments, svp! Review! Big sorry if any **_Somnio Eternus_** readers are here, I'll try to get the next chapter out by about next week. Had midterms all week and training courses. I'll try to write some more while I'm up boarding this weekend : D blahblahblah. I hate February. But I had this written up a while ago, so might as well post it. Do hope you all enjoyed this! Now **Review!**


	2. Bite to Break Skin

**Chapter Two:_ Bite to Break Skin_**

His tsavorite eyes baring flecks of a dull copper peered out from the darkness, observing her every move. She was graceful, yet she was carefree; she was quick, yet she was gentle. He would have been lying if he were to say she was a typical blonde haired, blue-eyed beauty, no, she was a unique goddess in his eyes. Her shimmering, crimson hair touched with glints of gold cascaded softly down her shoulders just sweeping the tops, and her complexion was like none he'd ever seen before; it was fair, like whipped cream sprinkled with a dash of cinnamon. She was incomparable to anyone else in the world, but what made her so, was undoubtedly her smile. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes upon. Like no other's it seemed to warm him to the very core of his soul. Her smile was indeed special, and she did so often; but just once, just once he wished that she would smile for him, at him; because of him. It was all he wanted; all he truly needed.

Never once even glancing his way, she sauntered by with her usual clique of Gryffindors. She would never notice him on her own, she would never know that he watched her when none other did; she would never know that _he _(with the aid of polyjuice potion) was the one who'd protected her from the band of Slytherins that had come after her one night; she would never know that _he_ was the one who left her the enchanted azure rose petals in the most discreet of places which only she could find.

Never—Never would she know.

vVv

"One….two….three……."

A large oak door materialized before the sixth-year Gryffindor. Tentatively, she reached forward and slowly twisted the door knob. Pushing forwards, she stepped through the frame and entered a large room that resembled a relatively spacious bed chamber. The walls were coloured a navy blue with cerulean trimmings along the edges. Her eyes travelled to one side where there was a large library filled with books of all sorts; many scattered along the ground before the book case. At the opposite side end, sat a large clear cabinet that seemed to be filled with various medicines, potions and rolls of gauze. In the very back was a large king-sized bed, covered with a slate-blue blanket that blended rather agreeably with the colour of the room. Laying atop the bed immersed in a book of some sort, was the very person Hermione Granger had been searching for.

"What are you reading?" she asked, not so much curious but more of a way to start the conversation. After all, it wasn't everyday that Hermione Granger sought out her arch-nemesis for a little heart-the-heart chat.

Startled by the intruder, Draco promptly dropped book he had been reading and looked up. "Nothing—it's none of your business" he said sharply, sliding the book beneath his covers. There was silence as Hermione stood beside his bed in her striped purple pyjamas, contemplating what to say next aside from, "Do you mind telling everyone that I didn't viciously attack and nearly kill you?"

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked suddenly, breaking her current train of thought.

"I—I just came to see if you were alright. That's all" she lied, shuffling her bare feet against the gleaming wooden floors.

Draco eyed her suspiciously, her head was tilted towards the ground, and she had been nervously twisting her hands together. It didn't seem likely that she would be one to care how _he_ of all people was. Something was definitely wrong with the current picture. "You're a terrible liar, Granger" he said. "Now, tell me—and I _can_ tell if you lie—what are you doing here?"

Staring her deep in the eyes, his hard, amethyst gaze deeply perturbed her. Unconsciously, Hermione stepped back a few inches, putting what she felt was a relatively comfortable distance between the two.

"You've decorated this place quite nicely" she blurted out rather awkwardly.

Draco stared at her, but instead of trying to unnerve her, he was merely gawking with a look of incredulity, a single pale-blond eyebrow raised.

"Uh, I really like the colours." Hermione continued, her voice bordering on shrill, and looking anywhere but at him. "They correspond very nicely. "And wow! Look at the floors they're so shiny and they—"

"GRANGER!" Hermione's head shot up from the ground with remarkable speed. "Will you just get to the point!" Draco grated irritably.

Hermione winced and bit the side of her lip. "Okay…well, honestly, I really did want to see how you were doing." Draco gave her a look which she pretended not to notice and continued, "And, well, just…you know, make sure none of the spells I used on you…backfired..." she finished, rather lamely.

"Ha," the Slytherin laughed scathingly. "You just wanted to make sure that you hadn't killed me. Don't want your pristine record tarnished now do you, Granger?"

"It's not that!" Hermione protested as he managed to throw off his covers with one hand and climb out of bed. "Where are you going!" she demanded as she followed him to his destination.

"I am _going_ to change my bandages and unless you want to do it for me I suggest you get out," he said, never once looking her way.

Hermione stood her ground and glared stubbornly at his back as he made his way towards the medicine cabinet. "I'm not going anywhere until I know for sure that you're not going to drop dead!"

Gingerly, the Slytherin unbuttoned his white oxford and let it drop to the floor. At this, Hermione flushed the slightest bit and turned her head away, staring hard into the corner at the left side of the wall. Draco chose not to take any notice of her strange actions and proceeded to unravel the gauze around his waist. "Everyone is going to drop dead at some point, you know, Granger" he said quietly, carefully spreading a vivid orange paste across a large and colourful bruise just right of his navel.

"Well, yes, I suppose…but I won't be the cause of it. I refuse to be" she said in reply, still staring fixedly at the intriguing dark corner.

"It's inevitable," Draco countered. "Everyone is connected to someone else's death—is the cause of someone else's death somehow. No matter how big or small, you're killing someone or something right this second."

Automatically, her mouth opened to tell him he was wrong, but then she stopped. There simply weren't any words fit to contradict his argument. He was right.

"You know I'm right, Granger. Admit it," he continued as he began to wrap a new roll of material across his midsection.

"It's not proven," she said finally. "You can't prove it. No one can."

"Maybe, but maybe not. No one has ever tried now, have they?" he replied, picking his shirt up off the floor.

"You can't prove that—that someone all the way in—in—Brunei is killing me right now." Hermione argued, determined to win the impossible battle.

"If you think about it, they are technically. Just by living they're killing you because this—person is consuming energy; they very energy that you need. And air—they're breathing in _your_ air this very second."

"That's preposterous! No one is killing me right now! And we have plenty of air!" she shrieked in frustration.

"_And_ this person is also killing your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grand children. What if he uses up all the air and energy now and doesn't leave any for them?"

"Will you shut up! That is impossible and outrageous! We have more than enough of everything and anything to last us a million lifetimes!" Hermione cried.

"How would you know? You're not the one controlling our supplies now are you? And you can stop talking to the wall now. I've got my clothes back on" he added, snapping shut the cabinet door.

Hermione muttered under her breath with a few distinct words which Draco overheard such as 'ferret' and 'prick'. "Where are you going now! I'm not done talking to you!" she exclaimed as he headed towards the doorway.

"You're not, but I am. And I'm going to use the bloody lavatory. Care to join me still?" he offered sarcastically. The Gryffindor sputtered and gritted her teeth in frustration. "That's right, you just keep on grumbling and groaning—just make sure you're out of here by the time I come back," said Draco offhandedly, secretly taking pleasure in seeing her enraged. Then, before Hermione had a chance to reply, he had disappeared out the door.

"Bloody prat!" Hermione shouted after him, disregarding the fact that it was highly unlikely he could have heard her. Fuming, she trudged over to the bed and threw herself onto it. "OW!" Hermione quickly shot back up as she landed on a hard object beneath the covers. Feeling both curious and annoyed, she tugged back the covers and uncovered the object. Her eyes widened and she let out a tiny gasp. Why hadn't she thought of his before?

vVv

The early morning sunlight broke through the tiny crack where the tapestry from either side of the window met. Every morning it would shine in exactly the same place, upon the exact same pillow, upon the exact same cringing face of Hermione Granger. But this particular morning was different. The Gryffindor had risen from her bed earlier that morning to get a head start to her sanctuary—the library.

"Thought we'd find you here. Harry said to go check the astronomy tower first, but I knew I'd find you here."

Hermione's bushy, brown head popped up from behind her fortress of texts and scrolls, grinning up at her friend. "Morning, don't you have Quidditch practice today?" she asked, standing up to stretch her muscles.

"Soon, just though we'd come by to say 'hi'" said Harry, tip-toeing to see her. "You missed breakfast. You do know it's Saturday today, don't you? You have the whole day. What's the rush?"

"I just—" she paused, swiping at a strand of stray hair that had gotten loose. "I just wanted to get a head start on something."

"Not still working on SPEW are you?" Ron chimed in, "'cause you know that's a hopeless case, Hermione."

"…Creatures of the Night?" Harry questioned, picking up one of the books at the top of the pile. "House elves are creatures of the night?"

Ron sniggered, "I always thought Dobby looked a bit bat-like. Maybe they're _vampires_ in secret. No wonder they've got such strong magic."

"No!—I mean—yes. I—I haven't gotten there yet. Give me my book back!" Hermione sputtered, attempting to hide the bulk of her books.

Harry frowned slightly, but complied, "You know you can't save the world right, Hermione?"

"Course she can't" Ron interjected before Hermione could reply. "That's your job."

The golden boy shrugged, averting his brilliant green eyes to the ground. "Hey…we should be getting to practice now, Ron."

"Oh, right" said Ron putting down her books, "see you at lunch then, Hermione. Promise you won't go off trying to save the world then?"

"I promise" she smiled, waving goodbye. "See you then."

The very second the two boys left the library, Hermione dove back into her books, determined to save _something,_ if not the world

vVv

"Hey, look!"

"Hermione, look!"

"Will you two shut up? Some of us are actually trying to get our work done here!" Hermione hissed, burying her nose deeper into her book.

Later on near mid-afternoon, Parvati and Lavender had decided to take up residence inside of Hermione's fortress of texts, blatantly ignoring her plea for some time alone. Clearly the two had not joined her table for the reason they claimed to have, but instead, Hermione had been informed that she seemed to have taken the table with the best view of this _boy_. Presently, the Olsen twins were peering out from a gap between the columns of books, gaping and giggling every other second. Naturally, Hermione would have moved had she not taken over 50 books off of the shelves—but seeing as she had; well she was not so keen on having the move 50 odd books to another table—without magic.

"Hermione!" Lavender whined, nudging Hermione's writing arm and causing her to drag her self-inking quill half way down her scroll of notes.

"WHAT!" she grated vehemently as she attempted to undo the mess.

"Take a look!" the strawberry-blonde haired girl whispered excitedly, now tugging at Hermione's sleeve. "You'll like it I promise you!"

"Yes! Come see, Hermione!" Parvati chimed in, her multi-coloured bangles clanging musically against one another as she motioned Hermione over.

Surrendering at long last, Hermione slammed down her quill and marched over. "What am I looking at?"

Gripping the sides of her head, Parvati forced Hermione's head downwards into the gap between the books. "That."

"What the hell am I supposed to be seeing? Ernie? Dean? MADAME PINCE?" she hissed, drawing away.

"Look harder!" Lavender demanded, forcing Hermione's head back down.

"For what!"

"Seamus!" they chorused on either side of her ears.

Hermione's amber eyes widened as she finally caught sight of the sandy-haired Irish boy that seemed to have captured her heart—or her interest at the very least. Silently, Hermione cursed herself for ever telling the two boy-fanatics that she had found Seamus '_somewhat_ _intriguing_', and '_the best of the worst.'_ But nonetheless, it was very true. It seemed that he was actually much more intelligent that he had ever led on. No one had ever noticed before, but Seamus was in fact the second (to a certain blond-haired Slytherin) smartest wizard in their year. Her heart skipped a few beats as she recalled that one particular day when he had drawn her attention.

_"Professor!" she called out, raising her arm up so far up she could have sworn it had permanently stretched it out an extra few inches. "Professor!" _

_"Yes, Miss…Miss Ginger?" replied Professor Binns as he looked up from the book. _

_"Are these the same text books the other sixth years used last year?" she asked. _

_"Yes. Yes they are the exact same ones." _

_"But that's impossible! I went through the text book they used last year and this one is missing a whole chapter!" Hermione protested._

_"No—no it isn't" _

_"She's right! Chapter thirteen; The Mudblood Massacre of 1973!" Seamus piped up, flipping through the book. _

_"There is no such chapter, Mr. Flannigan!" _

_"There is! The great massacre of 1973 where the pureblood wizards bonded together to exterminate the muggleborns, halfblood and squibs." Hermione exclaimed. _

_"And that's only the part that everyone found out about. All the non-purebloods knew that the purebloods had been prostituting the non-pure witches for their soldiers" added Seamus._

_"And!__ They slaughtered all the non-pure children!" _

_"That is enough!" Professor Binns roared, slamming down his book. His ghostly pale cheeks were flushed a vibrant silver as he levitated a few metres off of the floor. "We are NOT going to be learning about that this year!" _

_"But why not?__ It's an important event in history! Everyone should about this!" cried Hermione._

_"Yes! Especially since to this very day, the non-purebloods have not received any compensation— or an apology of any sort!" said Seamus, outraged. _

_"It is not my decision what I do and do not teach! If you have a problem with the curriculum then I suggest you go and talk to the department of Education—detention to you both for disrupting the class!" _

_At this, Hermione fell silent, her fists clenched, and her jaw lacked tight. She would find a way to bring this chapter back into the lives of modern day wizards if it was the last thing she ever did. _

_Glancing across the room, she found Seamus looking every bit as infuriated as she was. Turning, he caught Hermione looking his way and flashed her a strong, promising smile. _

_Hermione returned his smile briefly before tuning back to her corrupted text. _

A blush spread like spilled ink across her cheeks as Seamus turned his head just in time to catch her gawking. She smiled faintly, shrugging her shoulder the slightest bit as the sandy-brown haired boy flashed her a grin, rolling his eyes at Parvati and Lavender.

"Did you see that, Parvati!" Lavender giggled, nudging her friend's right arm. "Did you see the connection between them? The _sexual tension_?"

"The WHAT!" Hermione cried indignantly. "All we did was acknowledge one another! There is absolutely nothing _sexual_ about THAT!"

Lavender and Parvati turned and yelled, "HA!" at the exact same time.

"So you admit there was an exchange!" Lavender proclaimed triumphantly.

"That you two made a connection!" Parvati added rather loudly, wringing Hermione's arm tightly and shaking her.

"Will you get off of me and leave me ALONE!" cried Hermione, attempting to wrench both girls off of her arm.

"That's QUITE enough!" bellowed Madame Pince, striding over to Hermione's tiny fortress. "All three of you, OUT!"

"Argh! Look what you've done now!" Hermione hissed venomously. Still shaking with anger, she snatched the books she'd taken out off of the table and swept them into her book bag.

"But Hermione, wait!" Parvati cried after her.

"No!" Hermione shouted angrily, not bothering to turn around. "Just leave me the bloody hell alone!"

vVv

A loud rumbling echoed through the halls followed by the steady footsteps, and hushed curses of a Slytherin boy. Gingerly, Draco rubbed his stomach in an attempt to smother the sounds it emitted. But alas, his attempts were fruitless as it just seemed to growl louder and louder as he went on. Draco cursed himself for not eating a proper dinner, but something in the food had made him feel terribly sick. Gritting his teeth together, Draco stumbled through the corridors food of some sort. He knew there had to be some around. Those two red-headed Weasleys were forever nicking food for their little Gryffindor parties.

Somehow, through his aimless wandering, the silver-haired boy had found his way into an empty classroom. Carefully, he seated himself on a rickety desk near the window, and laid his head down, facing the open window.

His head throbbed uncomfortably; not yet painful, but nonetheless irritating, and the glaring moonlight did nothing to help.

Suddenly, he felt his limbs wrack with violent tremors, his heart, beating against his chest as if trying to force its way out. His ears began to hurt, only worsening his headache, and his eyes began to burn as if someone had poured acid into them.

Draco moaned in agony as he tumbled out of the desk, landing hard on his back. Ever so slowly, the pain subsided, leaving a faint feeling, like someone tapping relentlessly on his head. Firmly, he placed his palms flat against the ground, the floor feeling strangely colder than normal, and slowly got up to his feet. Draco blinked his eyes repeatedly before starting to rub them. His vision had become inconceivably blurred.

Stumbling across the room, Draco finally reached the door, and made his way back out in to the halls to find help.

But all was dark when he found his way into the main halls, it was almost past curfew, and very few students were around.

"Look at him! He looks like he's been beaten up pretty badly."

"Probably walked into a door, stupid Slytherin."

Draco's head jerked up in what he assumed was the general direction of the voices. "You'd be smart to take that back" he warned, clutching the corner of the walls.

"Merlin! He's heard us!"

"Probably a trick from he-who-must-not-be-named, that traitor."

"He can still hear us!"

"Of course I can!" Draco cried indignantly. "You're talking so bloody loudly! How could I not hear you!"

After hearing a thundering of feet rushing away from him, Draco started again. His nose twitched. There was a strange scent in the air. It wasn't exactly potent, but rather distinctive. It came from many directions, but one in particular. Gradually, Draco staggered his way across to it.

"H-hello?" he said tentatively, wondering if anyone was there. He was almost certain that there was something….moving before him.

"Can I help you?" came a girl's voice.

The scent was now stronger than ever—something, something about this girl drew him towards her. Just then, he felt a strange sensation cross his mouth—as if his teeth had suddenly grown an extra inch.

"I don't know, can you?" a peculiar feeling surged through his body, and as if by instinct, Draco suddenly lunged forwards, bringing the girl down beneath him.

The girl screamed, but no one was around to hear her. Then, Draco did what both his mind and stomach urged him to do.

He sunk his teeth, deep into the side of her neck.

A/N , yes, an update! Couldn't think of decent lyrics for this chapter. If you have any it'd be great if you could recommend them to me. Right, so review then. The title if anyone cares if from **Senses Fail**.


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